“Notmybed, and he’s not even tied up, just sort of…stuck.”Imprisonedwould have been the proper word, but it made Celeste shiver to even think it. Holy knight or not, surely he would be bothered by being locked up in a temple.
“So what do you need help with then? Killing him? I’m supposed to try and do less of that, but for the right price—”
“Crickets, no!” Celeste clapped a hand over her chest, and the locket vibrated against her palm. “I just need to convince him that I’m not evil—because I’mnot—and I think I convinced you, so if you tell me how I did that, maybe I can do it again.”
Kori readjusted her basket with a hefty sigh. “You didn’t convince me, I’m just smart enough to know, which is clearly more than can be said for big, dumb men who run blindly into temples swinging their swords around.” They passed a cluster of houses, and Kori was walking even faster, bringing them close to the edge of the village’s circle. “So, if all he can see when he looks at you is some great evil, then you might just have to be that great evil and turn him into a sex thrall or whatever it is your sister used to do. I’ve known men like him, it’s probably all he’s good for anyway.”
“I don’t want to do that,” Celeste groaned, even though it was really only the thrall part that sounded bad—granted it was a very big bad. She peered across the center of town and down the road that led southward. A few others were milling about in the early morning but still too far off to hear their tasteless conversation. She would have preferred keeping to the shadows, but Kori was on a mission. “And that kind of magic won’t work on him anyway: he’s a holy man,” she said, lowering her voice and running fingers through her hair to pull in front of her face. “Holy people are the worst.”
Kori came to a stop then. “Oh, right, he is, isn’t he?” She curled her lip and looked thoughtful for once. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but not all of them are that bad.”
Apparently, Kori had never been beaten by a priest in the name of Osurehm for accidentally spilling her gruel. Celeste only made a noncommittal noise.
“There are plenty of them who use their god to hurt, but there are a few who use their god to help too. Figure out which one he is, and then usethatagainst him.”
Celeste whined—she didn’t want to use anything against anyone, but clearly she wasn’t getting much more out of the woman as she was already walking away. “Will you also tell me where I can get some provisions in trade for coin?”
“Baylen takes coin at the Horn of Plenty, down East Road.” She pointed as she went the opposite direction toward the Dew Drop Inn.
Celeste looked from the unfamiliar road back to where the woman was headed, guts roiling at the thought of being on her own in the daylight. Then there was a flash of bright movement from the stables attached to the Dew Drop, and she saw the brilliantly blond tail of a horse.
“Wait!” Celeste dug a gold out of her pocket and hurried up to Kori. “That’s got to be the knight’s horse, right? Can you give this to Halfrida for his care?”
“The horse that belongs to the man who thinks you’re evil and is trying to kill you?”
Celeste shrugged. “The horse isn’t trying to kill me. Yet.”
Kori plucked the coin from her fingers and turned for the inn, leaving her standing at the head of the circle alone. An older woman and two children were coming around the other side of the boarded-up well, and a pair of men strode up the southern way, chatting loudly about a future hunting excursion. Celeste scurried in the direction she’d been shown with her head down.
Of the four pathways that spread off of the center of Briarwyke, East Road was shortest. The sun wasn’t quite high enough to shine directly overhead, and Celeste was relieved to step into the shadows of the buildings, but then heard an ominous crunch underfoot.
A sprinkling of glass shards littered the road along its entire length. She maneuvered carefully around them and up to the Horn of Plenty. The awning over the door of faded red canvas sagged slightly, its edges frayed. Above, a rope ran from the second-story balcony to the roof of the hovel across the way, and drying tunics hung from it. One dripped, filling a puddle in the road’s center.
The general store’s door was propped open, and the inside was brighter than the shadowed spot beneath the awning, a large crystal fixed to the wall casting an arcane glow over the space. It was a well-organized mess, shelves set up in clean rows, a stand filled with staves, a case lined with bowls and jars, a rack covered in colorful cloaks. And there was an open cupboard dedicated to just what she needed, lots of bagged, preserved foodstuffs.
“Morning,” called a sleepy voice from the back of the shop, and Celeste bent around one of the shelves to see a man—or rather, a cow—standing behind the counter.
Well, no, he wasn’t a cow, only…he was, a little. Celeste had met minotaurs, big burly, beast-like creatures that could rend you in half with their horns or kick you into the next moon with their hooves, and though she supposed this man was maybe also one, he was nowhere near as beefy.
“Baylen?” she asked carefully, taking a few steps down a narrow row toward the counter.
“That’d be me,” he said, the lazy lilt to his voice soothing and his gentle grin nestled into a fine beard. Most minotaurs had snout-like noses, but this man’s was more subtly flat. Less subtle were his horns, one curving up out of russet hair into a sharp point and the other snapped off at its middle. His ears too were unique, long and rounded as they stuck out from either side of his head. One flicked as her eyes roved over his features, and she realized she was staring, perhaps rudely.
“I was hoping I could purchase some goods.” She patted the empty sack she’d brought with her. “Kori says you take coin?”
“One of the few that do.”
“I need milled flour, something sweet like honey or syrup, eggs, butter, and some spices, if you have them.”
“You’re asking for a lot, but you came to the right place.” Baylen made an unhurried gesture as he stood from behind the counter and sauntered out on hooves, his thin tail swishing behind, a tuft of brown fur at its end. Probably more than two heads taller than her, he walked with a slight hunch, one Celeste was familiar using herself to hide her height.
He brought her to the shelf she’d spied and bagged up what she requested. Celeste was impressed with the fineness of the flour and the array of spices he had, picking out a few sweet and woodsy-smelling ones as well as a bag of peppery tea leaves that made her chest go warm just from the scent. A few scoops of dried beans and a foreign, salted meat were added to her order, and she found a good jar with a tight seal that would allow her to grow her own leavening. Baylen didn’t sell eggs as he explained everyone in town had their own chickens, but he was kind enough to give her half a dozen of his own.
Baylen filled up her satchel with neatly tied, parchment-wrapped packages. She told him she didn’t need such care, but he insisted—it was his favorite part of running a shop, seeing a tidy bag all packed up.
While he worked, she sniffed the last of his unmarked spice jars. There was a sharp tickle at her nose, and she pulled back with a gasp. “Dragon root from the Accursed Wastes? How did you get that?”
“Oh, I can get just about anything.” He winked, long lashes moving slowly. “I have connections.”
